


This Ichor of Your Kiss

by Baebadook



Series: Team Depressed Party [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Hate Sex, Jonas be Going Through It y'all, M/M, Or I guess the closest you can get to it, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Semi-Public Sex, minor implications of depression, minor implications of loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 13:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21321055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baebadook/pseuds/Baebadook
Summary: A beat- and then the tension snaps, like a string being pulled taut until it breaks under the pressure. Jonas doesn’t know who broke first, but he grabs at Lucian’s ridiculous clothes and drags him in.Lucian and Jojo walk into an alley. So Jojo can pull his thing out.
Relationships: Lucian D'lacriox/Jonas Nel Vasstris, Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Series: Team Depressed Party [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537081
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	This Ichor of Your Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is all based on a funny thing interaction that happened during our most recent session (love you Rogue) and my wheels instantly started turning because I have no shame.

Jonas grunts as something pinches his ass, sharp and hard and awfully similar to fingers, and he sends Lucian a look across the alley. Lucian grins back, unrepentant, a small waggle to his brows as he leans against the dingy stone wall. Jonas' cheeks flush warm.

"If you're going to do something than do it already." He grunts out, a monotone to his voice that has coated his tone ever since he arrived to this place. After- well. His emotions are frayed at the edge. Sharp and jagged and overlapping until he feels almost numb. And annoyed. And, as the gods seem to have the greatest sense of humor, a little hot under the collar.

Lucian is obnoxious, irresponsible, flippant. Reckless with an edge of dangerous that makes him untrustworthy at the worst of days.

And yet, there was The Purple Lion. A memory that sticks out to him a lot recently. Nothing had happened, between the three of them. But it had been nice, in a begrudging way. He's not sure when he's last been held or curled against like that. Probably Ronin, and that's a situation that still stings as much as the end of their pseudo-relationship had. There was another side to Lucian that had gotten a swift peak of. Something tangible and sad and something Jonas can relate all too well to.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that JoJo?" Lucian asks, that certain lilt that wraps around his name as he pronounces it. Teasing and smug. He pushes off the wall and steps forwards slowly. One foot after another, until they're closer and Jonas only has to tilt his head an inch up to look at him properly. The Nimblewright detector is still despondent, clutched in his right hand. He swallows hard. Lucian puts a hand on the wall to the right of his head. "Half of the fun is in the chase, no?"

"I don't like running." He says bluntly.

Something coats the air between them. A tension that has persisted for a while- ever since they met, he might even say. Layers of moments in his periphery that linger just a bit too long for his taste. Even today. Lucian had flounced back into Trollskull and fixed him with those piercing eyes. Joked with him- at him- at the breakfast table not a few minutes ago. Smiling wide and sharp, teeth and tongue coated in that black ichor that Jonas is eerily curious about. Nearby a carriage rumbles down the street, but it does little to break their moment even as Jonas flickers his eyes towards the noise.

“Then what _ do _ you like? What do _ you _ want Jojo?” That name again, scraping across his rib cage- right above the heart. More eye contact. Jonas swallows again, and Lucian’s eyes slide down to follow the movement.

“You to shut up would be a good start I think.” Lucian’s chest rumbles low with laughter

“That can certainly be arranged.”

A beat- and then the tension snaps, like a string being pulled taut until it breaks under the pressure. Jonas doesn’t know who broke first, but he grabs at Lucian’s ridiculous clothes and drags him in.

It’s an instant assault of tastes that collide against his lips. Heady alcohol, familiar. Tobacco, not so much, but enough to identify it. That black liquid slides into his mouth along with Lucian’s tongue and he groans. It’s shockingly not as disgusting as he would’ve guessed. There’s something else there- an underlying bitter taste, the sensation funny. He doesn’t have much time to ponder upon it, though, as one of Lucian’s hands slides down his body to grope at the front of his trousers. He doesn’t know what it says about him that he’s already half hard and twitching under his palm. He bucks into the pressure, blood thrumming hot through his veins.

“Somebody's impatient.” That smarmy tone drawls straight into his ear, biting at his lobe.

“Somebody’s easy.” He snips back. He can feel the next rumble of laughter against his body.

“I am. But what does that make you?”

He decides that it’s best not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he simply flips them around, smirking at Lucian’s startled squawk, until he’s the one in control.

“Definitely impatient.”

“Shut up.” He dips his head and rakes his teeth into his collar bone, not even a little bit surprised when he finds some of that same blackness has coated his own mouth now. Again, shockingly not as gross as he thought it would be a week ago.

Gods, it feels like it’s been months since he got here. It might as well have been- time has a way of running together when you only get out of bed by necessity. And, well. He shoves those thoughts aside to lock them away and grinds against him.

“Shit.” Lucian hisses. He hooks a slim leg around Jonas and rolls into him. Jonas stiffles a moan against his collar, arousal a steady hum under his skin. He chances a glance toward the alley’s exit but no one has seemed to catch on to anything happening. Which is for the best, really. He doesn’t feel like getting fined or thrown into jail for public indecency.

He could get off just like this, he thinks. Rolling hips and delectable pressure and that sharp taste on his tongue as they kiss. Harsh and all teeth. But he craves for more. He reaches down between them and fumbles for the fastenings on Lucian’s pants. Tugs them down as much as possible so he can work a hand down them.

“Fucking shit. A little warning please?” Lucian grumbles. His hips jerk into his grasp at the sudden change. Jonas thumbs across the slit of his cock, spreading out a bead of pre-come that’s already dripping out the tip.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not. “I can always stop.” He actually does- he removes his hand out of his trousers completely and Lucian whines at the loss. He grins into his neck and nips at him one final time before he steps away.

To put it frankly, Lucian looks disheveled as fuck. His pristine outfit is rumpled and wrinkled in places, chest heaving as he pants and glares at him. Eyes dilated wide. Black smudged across his collarbone and neck. He looks debauched- everything a noble shouldn’t be- but that’s exactly who he is as a person. As an equally similar debauched noble they make quite the pair.

“Turn around.” Jonas says.

Lucian rolls his eyes and looks put-upon, but he surprisingly does what he’s told. Facing the cool alley wall and bracing his hands against it.

“Bossy bossy. I wouldn't have had you pegged that way, you know.” He looks particularly smug about this newfound revelation, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes. He’s decidedly _ not _ bossy in bed, actually; the Warlock just has a penchant for testing his nerves.

“We’re all full of surprises I suppose.” Jonas steps closer, notices the way Lucian tilts his head to the side and opens his mouth to comment. Jonas reaches down and pinches his left cheek. As much as he can anyways, his ass is as slim as the rest of him. “Payback.” He adds cheekily, and Lucian huffs.

“Just fuck me already.”

“Now look who’s impatient?” Jonas slides his pants down off his hips. Checks the opening again. Nothing as far as he can tell. The darkness of the alley, even in the early morning, has given them something of an advantage.

He hisses when he drags his underwear down and his dick feels the cool air. He shucks Lucian’s garments down the rest of the way and grips at his hips, pulling them back until his ass is sticking out at a better angle. He makes direct eye contact with him and slides three fingers into his mouth. Sucks them until they’re good and coated with saliva and Lucian’s frame shudders as he watches. Still grinning. Jonas’ other hand squeezes at his pale hip. A light warning, because he’s not a complete asshole all the time. And again, they are trying to be quiet about this.

The first finger breeches that ring of muscle and he slips it in down to the knuckle, a shot of warm heat sliding down his spine and pooling at his hips as Lucian clenches around it.

“_Shit._”

“That’s it.” He goads, sinking it in deep and pulling it back again. He leans over his back and slides his tongue up his shoulder and to his neck. Laps and teases at the skin.

“We haven’t got all day.” Lucian bites out. Jonas tsks softly and plunges the digit in deep for his trouble, sliding against that spot that has him tensing and spitting out curses. His patience doesn’t have all day either, but here they are.

He fucks him open wide with three fingers until he’s grunting, elbows almost buckling with the sharp movements. His fists are white-knuckled against the stone. He’s made no moves to touch himself and Jonas wonders if it’s some form of self-punishment he gets off on or if he expects him to do it for him. The brat.

Jonas’ own dick aches between his legs and he _ wants _. He spits into his open palm, breath stuttering in his chest as he finally wraps a hand around himself. Strokes himself a few times to make the glide easier. Bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. Finally he pushes into him, a breathy moan escaping past his lips that Lucian echoes right along with him. He buries himself down to the hilt, fingertips pressing hard into his hips. His knees quiver with strain. It’s not the most comfortable places to have sex by far, but they don’t have the time nor patience for such luxuries. 

It’s been awhile for him, and the tight heat clenching and swallowing his dick feels phenomenal. He closes his eyes and pants, hot open breaths that fan across Lucian’s neck. It kind’ve makes him wish he had taken up his offer back at The Purple Lion.

“Fuck.” Lucian grunts, tone high and breathy. He’s inclined to agree.

He starts off slow, as slow as the both of them will allow, and cants his hips forwards. The pull and drag of Lucian around him is a toe-curling, intoxicating feeling; the sensations rocks pleasure right through him.

Lucian reaches down and fists his cock, but given the current position it isn’t the easiest of tasks if they want to avoid collapsing to the ground. Jonas finally gives him mercy by leaning into his back, batting away his hand so he can curl his own fingers around him.

Lucian also, to no one’s surprise, doesn’t stop talking. Whether it’s to tell him to go faster or harder or to bite out expletives. Jonas isn’t that opposed to vocal bedfellows- Ronin was never one for quiet intimate moments- but he does have to worry about it drawing any attention to them. His solution is to swallow down his noises with another kiss. The angle leaves something to be desired, but it keeps him quiet for the moment.

They rut against each other with a fervent desperation, chasing after release. It’s a want that builds heavy in his gut, a liquid hot fire not unlike the kind he can conjure and manipulate.

“Gods.” He breathes into his skin, movements stuttering and picking up speed. His grip on his hip hasn’t lessened, and he faintly wonders if it might leave bruises in his ivory skin.

“No, just Lucian.” Well, it was nice while it lasted. He seems no better off even as he jokes. Panting, pressing his forehead against the wall.

He actually snorts dryly at that, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re a-_ah_.” Whatever sentence he starts dies on his lips as Jonas squeezes at his dick. Slides his fingers up the shaft and rubbing against the head. It doesn’t take very long for Lucian to gasp like his breath’s been punched from his lungs, clamping down hard around him and shuddering as he spills into his fist.

“_Fuck_.” Jonas grits out, ragged and on the edge. A few more aborted jerks of his hips and he shakes, burying deep and coming inside of him. For the briefest of moments a name almost falls off his lips and shuts his mouth hard. Heart beating uneven for a completely different reason.

They both take a moment to catch their breath and Jonas pulls out of him with a hiss, oversensitive. Eventually the blood stops pounding in his ears and he leans against the wall for support, legs a bit shaken and uneven below him. The temperature of it helps cool down his flushed skin, and he takes it upon himself to ponder over his life choices.

“Ack, really Jojo? This is going to take forever to clean up.”

He watches on blankly, letting him fret and bemoan over the mess for a moment. Then with a huff that might actually be a laugh he rights himself and goes through the various motions of casting Prestidigitation. It only takes a few minutes to make them look about as presentable as they were when they entered the alley.

“Ah, you and your fancy magic _ are _ good for something.” The comment is followed by a light tap to his cheek.

“You’re glowing reviews mean the world to me, they really do.”

"Yes, well. I guess we should actually look for the Nimblewright now.” He says, and it takes Jonas a minute to remember that that’s the _ actual _ reason they had left The Sleeping Owl. The detector lay abandoned on a nearby crate, something he doesn’t actually remember doing, but he’s thankful at the very least that he didn’t drop it during their. Ahem. ‘Talk.’

“Right.” He activates it- which is one of the two things he knows how to work- and holds it up. After turning in a bit of a circle with Lucian watching on apparent amusement, it finally starts to pick up speed as he faces the west. Great. Fantastic. He can only hope that it goes better than the last time he and Blue Jonas tried to track it. Gods knows they don’t need any more run-ins with the guards in this town. Or the Zhentarim.

“We shall go immediately! To the carriage!” Lucian starts walking- he notices with faint amusement that there’s a slight shift to his movements- and then promptly stops again. “Well, first to get the others, and then the carriage.”

Jonas can only belatedly follow along with a long-suffering sigh.

Blue Jonas and Icarion are still seated as they had left them, plates pushed to the side as they talk amiably. Or at the very least as amiable as one can be in their clusterfuck of a group.

“Gentlemen, we have our heading.” Lucian declares triumphantly when he comes to a stop at their table. They both look up to him, and then to Jonas, and Jonas has a sinking realization. Prestidigitation is great for removing a stain and/or mess of some sorts, but it cannot whisk away any bruises or marks. And while it’s not as noticeable on his dark skin, it’s _ certainly _ noticeable on Lucian’s.

He can pinpoint the exact moment it dawns on both of them- the way Icarion let’s out something of a wheeze. It kind’ve sounds like he’s dying. Blue Jonas’ eyes widen slightly with disbelief. This is possibly the worst day of Jonas’ life, on record. And as per the usual, Icarion exacerbates the situation. 

“Did you get to call him Lucy?” He outright breaks into laughter after than, slamming a large wing on the table with enough force to rattle the whole thing. Other early patrons glance over with looks of interest or begrudgements.

“It didn’t come up.” Lucian comments mildly. Blue Jonas bites his lip, probably to hold back a laugh, but he at least has the decency to lessen the blow to Jonas’ overall sanity.

His face feels about as hot as one of his fire bolts. He wonders if he prays hard enough to any gods available that they’ll let the floor swallow him whole. 

He has no such luck.


End file.
